


Don't you see

by Locke Redwyne (deltalocke)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltalocke/pseuds/Locke%20Redwyne
Summary: Angsty thing I wrote a couple of months ago at like 2am that I forgot to postCw alcohol use, cw eating non-foods, tw cussing/swearing, tw insulting and mean characters (not quite unsympathetic, but not completely sympathetic, either), cw minor violence, cw conflict with no resolution, cw puking/throwing upThis actually made me sad to write soooo you've been warned haha
Kudos: 3





	Don't you see

I head downstairs to refill my wine glass, falling forward when the last stair seems to rise and trip me. I tumble to the ground, wine glass shattering. Oh well, the carpet isn’t exactly pristine at this point. I head into the kitchen and just grab the wine bottle, not bothering with another glass. Looking around the empty first floor, I sigh. The house seems so barren now. I start heading back up the stairs when I hear a gagging sound from the bathroom. Oh, _wonderful_. 

I head towards the noise, curious why someone is puking at three in the morning. I knock, not expecting an answer, and push the door open. I find Remus hunched over the toilet, throwing up. In one of his hands is... a bottle of bleach? It’s not a small bottle and doesn't look too full. Seriously, bleach this time? 

I look in the general direction of Remus’ face, who guiltily avoids looks anywhere but at me. Sighing, I uncork my own bottle and take a long sip. I’m going to need more of this to get through the night. I stare at my bottle for a few more seconds before taking a couple more sips and recorking it. 

Turning back to Remus, I take a moment to study him, the way his tall frame is curved over the toilet, contrary to his usual prideful upright posture. The way his left hand braces against the floor too tightly, ragged nails digging into the tile, as if he’s trying to hold on, keep himself secure. The way his head droops, eyes tired, and mouth hanging open, panting slightly, his broken crown more askew than usual. The way his right hand loosely grips the bottle, as if he doesn’t want to be touching it. I take in how his outfit is a mess compared to normal, which is saying something. His sash is torn, muddy, and bloodied. The eyeball he usually wears on his shoulder is nowhere in sight, one pant leg is rolled up higher than the other, and a boot is missing. Not to say I’m in much better shape. 

“Remus. This was your _best_ idea yet. You should _totally_ keep up this pattern of eating inedible things. It will _definitely_ get him to come back.” 

He doesn’t react. I sigh, looking around. The bathroom is mostly intact, which is better than last time. The primary damage is a large crack slicing through the mirror. I take a moment to marvel at how it seems to split me in half, the more human-looking side on the right, and the scales going down the side of my face, neck, shoulder, arm, and hand on the left. As if I’m two halves put together. That’s an intriguing thought. I turn my attention back to the side in the middle of the bathroom. 

“Remus. Get your filthy ass upstairs and change your clothes. Take a shower while you’re at it. And eat some real food.” 

He ignores me still, staring into the toilet bowl. I hope he’s not going to try to drink toilet water again. 

“ _Remus_!” I growl. 

“Go away, Janus,” he says, with none of the usual disgustingness and playfulness in his voice. He sounds... tired, depressed, empty. He sounds hurt, emotionally, which is fair. 

“N-o,” I hiccup. Remembering the bottle in my hand, I take another sip. I lean against the doorframe. “I’m not going anywhere until you stop.” 

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything, snake boy.” Remus turns his head slightly towards me, his hair falling in his mismatched green eyes. 

I roll my eyes, making me momentarily dizzy. “Oh yes, you _definitely_ have your shit together,” I comment, staring in the general direction of his face. 

He huffs and scowls, then turns away. “You’re a mess, too. I hear you crying every night; it’s pitiful.” 

I flinch, nearly dropping the wine bottle. How dare he talk to me like that? There’s a lot for me to deal with, and now I’m just trying to let him know that he shouldn’t be doing that. And everyone deals with grief differently! He doesn’t get to tell me how to process my emotions. 

“You doing this _is_ going to bring him back,” I tell him. 

“Stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And it _will_ help change his mind.” 

“Stop it,” he growls, turning to glare at me, rage shining in his bright green eyes, obscured by filthy greasy hair falling into them. 

I don’t. “Maybe if you weren’t so disgusting, he would have stayed,” I say venomously. I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, I’m shoved against the wall, stumbling and landing painfully on my shoulder. My vision spins as I look to see Remus towering over me, shaking with rage. My shoulder throbs in time with my raised heart rate. 

“You’re no angel either, Janus,” he shouts. “Perhaps he just couldn’t stand your creepy snake face, and all those nasty scales you’re always showing off. You lie about everything, and no one can trust you. You always hurt everyone around you. I don’t blame him for leaving.” 

I want to tell him to stop, that he’s hurting me, that this isn’t helping. I want to apologize, tell him I’m sorry, tell him I didn’t mean what I said. I want, I want, I want. 

But I don’t. 

“Lie to yourself all you like, but you’re just as much of a monster as I am. You’re a dark side, and they’ll never accept you as anything but that.” He disappears, leaving me as my eyes fill and overflow, wetting the ground beneath me. 

He’s right, and I deserve this. 


End file.
